


Aspirin

by bethfrish



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfrish/pseuds/bethfrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm sorry. I don't have anything stronger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aspirin

The wood is heavy and hard against the cracked skin of your palms. A skilled grip is all in the fingers. Just relax. Relax. This handle seems narrower than the last. A stickier finish to the ash. Zacharie stares at you from behind the counter with holes for eyes. "Give it a try," he offers.

"I wouldn't hold it like this." The one you have is grimy and black except for the part where your hands go. Your knuckles ache when you flex them. It's fine that they ache. "How much is it?"

_—Does it make you feel better?— he asked suddenly, lighting up a Gauloises._

_—What?—_

_—Your filthy money.— He sat up against the pillow and inhaled without looking at you. His hair stuck to the sweat on his forehead in dark, damp curls. —Merely a transaction.—_

_—Shut up.—_

_He laughed softly._

_—I said shut up.—_

_—Go on home already, why don't you. Keeping secrets is built into the price. You don't have to worry.—_

_—Stop it.—_

_—I've got plenty of other business.—_

_—Stop it!—_

_He turned and looked at you, dirty tendrils crawling away from the end of his cigarette. His eyes were dark and hollow in the yellow light. —Tell me, then,— he sneered. —Does it make you feel better?—_

_—You don't understand!— you cried, grabbing his arm roughly from across the bed. You dug your fingers into the delicate bones of his wrist, feeling the surrender of muscle and the pulse that thumped against your skin. You held him there against you, until he looked at you with that fragile, impassive face, and your nostrils flinched at the acrid smell of smoke as you laughed, —I wish it did.—_

_He looked at you for a long time before pulling away. —Relax,— he said finally, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand. —I'm only kidding. I don't care what you do.—_

_—Please don't say that.—_

_He leaned in closer and pressed his mouth to your neck, kissing it lightly. —What do I care?—_

"500 credits," Zacharie answers.

"That's a rip-off."

"Oh?"

You weigh the bat in your hands again before laying it on the counter. "What do you think?" The last one made your knuckles ache so badly.

"Heh," Zacharie chuckles with disinterest. "How irrelevant. I'm only a simple merchant." 

You frown and tell him, "You're right." And you hand him the money as his gray, polluted laugh fades into the sky.


End file.
